


It Made Me Think of You

by The_Lonely_has_always_had_me



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: And the usual angsty goodness we all love about these idiot boys, I don't know, Post MAG-129, Pre MAG-154, There's some cursing I guess, i've never done this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22168156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lonely_has_always_had_me/pseuds/The_Lonely_has_always_had_me
Summary: How can one little box left on his desk make him both more and less Lonely?
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 16
Kudos: 145





	It Made Me Think of You

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so here goes. 1st story posting ever. Written lots, both in my head and on actual honest-to-goodness paper. Which means this old school mess knows jack $#*+ about HTML so forgive any formatting issues. Un-beta'd because I don't even go here. :) Feel free to leave comments since this is one of the first times someone else is seeing my writing. Uhh- be gentle?
> 
> This is a little scene that wouldn't get out of my head. And it was a hell of a lot less intimidating to put this down than the monster fic that is swirling around in there too.
> 
> Set somewhere nebulously between 129 and 154.

“Hello, Rosie.”

The older woman jumped a bit and squinted up at him. “Oh! Hello, Martin. I didn’t see you there, dear.” She grimaced as she attempted to focus on him, but the harder she tried the more her eyes seemed to just slip past him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted to…” Martin’s voice trailed off as she appeared to have already forgotten he was there and returned to typing. He sighed and kept moving past the desk towards his small office next to Eli- Peter’s door. The same thing had happened when he had encountered a group from the research department in the hall yesterday. He was used to being overlooked, but it seemed the more time he spent under Peter’s influence, people actively couldn’t notice him. Which was after all the point of all this, wasn’t it?

He felt the cold beginning to creep in through his jacket as he reached for the door handle. Time to retreat to his office. Somehow being alone was much less lonely than the alternative these days. He froze in the doorway and stared at the small box sitting on his desk. He stepped inside, glanced back to make sure no one was there, and then shut the door quietly. He let out a sharp, humorless laugh once his brain registered what he had done. As if closed doors kept anything unseen in this place.

The box was wrapped in brown paper and had a simple twine string tied in a bow around it. Whatever was inside was light, and he could barely feel the weight of it in his palm when he finally picked it up after staring at it for a few moments. His brow furrowed. Surely he wasn’t so far gone that he had completely missed a holiday of some sort, and his birthday had been months ago. His eyes moved to check the calendar on his desk, but stopped instead on the note that had been tucked under the box, hidden until he had lifted it.

Jon’s neat curling script was instantly recognizable, and Martin simultaneously groaned and gripped the paper tighter. This man would honestly be the death of him.

That thought gave him pause. The turn of phrase was entirely too close to reality now to be the least bit funny.

_Martin-_

_I was going through some of my things that Georgie put in storage and found this._

_I picked it up in China. It made me think of you. I knew you’d enjoy it as much as I had._

_It was meant to be a birthday present, but it would seem that I slept through your birthday._

_-Jon_

He could hear Jon’s voice in his head. The slight pauses in places where he had struggled with the words. Setting the note down, he pulled at the twine and removed the paper. The tin inside was a hypnotizing pattern of blues and greens. Popping it open, his eyes slid shut and a small moan escaped his lips as the aroma of the tea leaves engulfed him. This was...heavenly. He hated to think of how much Jon had paid for something like this. This was far better quality than anything he ever had kept stocked in the Archives. Hell, this was likely better quality than anything he had ever drank in his life.

Martin looked back at the note. He had specifically asked Jon not to find him anymore and that was exactly what he had done. This was the scrap paper from Jon’s desk that he used to jot down notes and reminders about case files. Which meant that Jon had written the note before leaving his office. Which also meant that he had likely waited until a moment he knew Martin wouldn’t be there. For once, Jon had listened to him.

And he hated it.

* * *

He shouldn’t be here. He told himself this just as he had told himself that he shouldn’t have made a second cup, and then that he definitely shouldn’t be considering taking it down to him. Yet here he stands, not just in the Archives again, but next to Jon’s desk. Luckily the Archives are empty. He had seen Basira dragging the exhausted Archivist towards the canteen with Daisy trailing slowly behind as he had cautiously made his way down, stepping back into the shadows of the stairwell so that they missed him as they passed. Jon had looked annoyed, but also wretched, as if he hadn’t remembered to eat or sleep in days. 

“You are going to eat something. You fucking passed out on your feet, idiot. You damn near cracked your head open on your desk, and if you think I’m cleaning that mess up…”Basira’s voice had faded as she continued dragging him down the hall. 

He can smell Jon in this room. Somehow over the smell of the tea and the dust of the Archives, he can still pick out the scent of him. It’s a bit different now, and it takes Martin a moment to realize it the lack of his aftershave. Jon’s beard is borderline out of hand these days.

He needed to get out of here. Peter could show up at any minute or the Archive staff could return. He still didn’t know where Melanie was.

But more than all of that, it was too much. Too close to feeling again. Just close enough for him to sense the enormity of what should be there, and the lack of it left him feeling hollowed out and weak. He set the mug down on the corner of the desk, exactly where he used to leave them when Jon was so distracted he hadn’t even looked up when Martin had entered. Close enough for the archivist to reach out and absently pick up the cup without risking inadvertently spilling it over the piles of paperwork scattered on his desk (always).

He was just closing the office door behind him when he heard the click of the tape recorder on his old desk. A moment later the door across the Archive opened. Jon was too busy slamming the door to the stairway up the rest of the Institute to notice him, and Martin quickly let himself slide to the shadows. Not just into the darkness, but Away. Still here enough to listen as Jon loudly complained (“I’m not a fucking child!” and something else muttered about not needing a “damn nurse”) and watch as he walked right past where Martin wasn’t, angrily tearing at the wrapper of a sandwich.

The muttering stopped when Jon opened the office door. His eyes froze on the cup, and from the side, Martin could see his expression soften. The corner of his mouth curled up into a small smile, almost hidden by the unruly beard. He breathed out Martin’s name, and Martin wished it had been just a bit softer so that he could have brushed it off instead of just loud enough to not be unheard.

Jon stepped into the office. Martin moved towards the exit, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking back. The sandwich had been replaced with the mug of still-steaming tea. Jon held it up to his face and breathed in deep. He turned just enough that Martin could see him in profile.

“Thank you.”

It was said clearly and directly, not just whispered to an empty room. Looking closer, he could see that Jon’s eyes were shifted in his direction. Respecting him enough to not force a face-to-face, but letting Martin know that he was seen. Of course he should have realized that The Archivist would be able to See him.

He kept quiet but didn’t move towards the door. Jon looked back down at the tea and took another deep breath. 

“I miss you.”

Jon held his breath waiting for a response, and when none came, his eyes closed, and his face fell. His next whisper was laced with resignation. “Just be safe.”

“You too.”

Martin was surprised by his own voice. He hadn’t intended to speak. Jon’s small smile was bittersweet, and he didn’t open his eyes. God, he needed to get out. He never should have come down here. His chest hurt with the effort to breathe in this place.

The door opened behind him, and Martin moved quickly into the darkness cast by one of the large bookshelves. Jon’s eyes opened, and his shoulders squared as Daisy and Basira’s voices filled the room. Martin waited till they had moved past him into the Archives and caught the door before it could close behind them. He paused on the stairs when he heard Basira.

“So I take it Martin was here.”

A moment later, Daisy’s new soft voice asked, “Did you see him?”

Jon’s deep tones drifted up the stairwell after Martin as the door closed.

“No, he wouldn’t let me.”


End file.
